


Simulcrum

by Sera_Clay



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:45:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sera_Clay/pseuds/Sera_Clay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death, angst, M, AU. Red/OC. NOT my usual take on Red/Liz. Plot bunny courtesy of Red X Lizzie.</p>
<p>Standard disclaimer: I don't own The Blacklist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simulcrum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedandLizzie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedandLizzie/gifts).



It has been more than two years since the funeral.

He talked with her three times before hiring her, the last one in person.

She doesn't mind the plastic surgery, the speech therapy, any of it.

She's got family in Eastern Europe to support, debts to the mob, more debts to her former coke dealer. It may have been foolish to expect that selling her body would make her rich, but she certainly never expected it to drag her deep into unremitting, crippling bondage.

If Raymond Reddington wants to rescue her from all of that, set her up in a new life, a life where she can work a normal job, marry, have children some day, she'll be anyone he wants.

Agent Elizabeth Keen, with her cheap, conservative suits and heavy eyeliner, no problem.

"Lizzie?"

He's an older man in a fancy suit, nothing unexpected there. What's different is the judgment in his deep set eyes, tired beyond weary. She needs no twitch of his trigger finger to scent death on him.

He's paid all her pimp asked, and much more. He's waited months. She had better be word perfect.

"Red. Are you ready to tell me the truth?"

There is no truth. People who believe in the truth just make themselves vulnerable. But she's not going to sneer. Oh, no.

He takes her hands, looks deep into her bright blue contact lenses, and starts talking. It's a long and convoluted story. She squeezes his hands, projects sincerity.

She's been paid for 72 hours. No more.

When they move into the bedroom, she cautiously takes the lead.

He's good with his hands, with his mouth. She lets just a little of herself, her real self, leak out. Enough that he has tears at the corner of his eyes.

When he takes off his shirt, after the first time, he starts talking again. So many scars. She ignores what he's saying, focuses her fingers, her lips, and finally her tongue, on his spine, trailing down lower until he groans, then back up to his shoulders. 

He likes her on her knees. 

He also likes to bend over furniture, feel her bend him, shove him. His pale skin, freckled where it's not scarred, welts so easily. She strokes him gently, afterward. It's not in the script. But he doesn't object.

He allows her breaks for water, the bathroom, the food that's stacked outside the door at regular intervals.

She runs through the remaining scripts, pacing herself. Pronouncing the names properly.

Cooper. Ressler. Aram. Dembe.

So many stories. She's becoming scared that she can't keep it all straight, despite the months of coaching.

She sleeps for a time, curled tight in his arms, his big, hairy body hot against her back. It's oddly comforting. Nobody sleeps with her, they just get out of her bed and leave.

"What do you really want, Lizzie?"

It's the last morning. Only three more hours.

She squirms against him, curving her back, opening her legs just slightly. It doesn't matter how sore she is. He's been surprisingly gentle with her. She'll heal, soon enough.

"Oh, Red."

Her intonation is perfect, she's sure of it.

"Tell me, Lizzie."

She concentrates. This is the hard part. It's a monologue, as if she was an actress. She's worked so hard to memorize it, so many unfamiliar English words.

His hand comes over her mouth.

She almost bites him. She can't stand to be smothered. It terrifies her, after the last time. A much younger man, hyped up, thinking online porn is the new normal.

His other hand softly cradles her neck. 

"Your own words."

He's inside of her, thrusting so perfectly that she feels the tide rising once again, her nerves melting away. 

He told her the first night that the G spot is real. It seems he's constrained to prove that, again and again.

She can manage this. She knows what he wants to hear. It's what all men want.

She wets her lips.

"Do you love me, Lizzie? Tell me you love me."

She moves with him, suddenly reluctant to speak. Glances back over her shoulder as their bodies move as one, willing him to look at her, really see her.

His eyes are closed, the lines of pain creasing his oval face so deep.

"Lizzie?"

She's so close now, so alive it's like a knife slicing through her.

This, she wants this. She thrums on the edge, impossibly, like a guitar string about to snap.

And still, she's nobody.

"I love you Red, I love you with all my heart."

His eyes remain closed.

"Stay with me forever. I'll do anything for you. I need you so much."

"Lizzie!"

It's almost a shout, as he dissolves into her. 

She lies flat on her belly with her face pressed into the pillow as he sprawls heavily atop her, recovering. Drags himself to his feet and dresses. Tosses a substantial tip onto the nightstand, a heavy bundle of bills. They land with the peculiar thunk that a stack of money makes.

She hears the door close softly, finally.

"Red. Oh, Red."

She presses her new face into the pillows, and weeps.


End file.
